


We'll Just Glide, Starry-Eyed

by zcinmalik



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Anxiety, Anxious Zayn, Banter, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Flying, Frat Boy Niall, Holding Hands, M/M, Photographer Zayn, Silly, Stressed Zayn, Supportive Niall Horan, Zayn Has a Fear of Flying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-09-26 02:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zcinmalik/pseuds/zcinmalik
Summary: “Let me guess—first time flier, right?”Or, three times Niall comforted Zayn while they were flying.





	We'll Just Glide, Starry-Eyed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prncelouie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prncelouie/gifts).

> With shouts to [Frank Sinatra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmQq6yLe2ww) and [_Say Anything_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyqDd8esYdc)

**( 1 )**

The guy sitting next to Zayn is cute, but if he doesn’t stop twitching around, Zayn might end up slapping him. 

Zayn took his beta blockers, drank his water, even brought some NyQuil to knock himself out as a last resort, but he does not have a contingency plan for a guy constantly moving around and drawing Zayn’s attention irreversibly to the fact that he’s on a goddamn plane. 

The problem is that first, the guy forgot his headphones in his suitcase, which he had already put in the overhead luggage carrier. So he got out of his seat, interrupting the flow of people still trying to get to their _ own _ seats, in order to rummage around for a good full minute or so before triumphantly yanking out one of those wireless sets. Fine. It happens. Zayn hadn’t even noticed much, because he had in the moment been decisively yanking the window sleeve on his left shut in order to prevent any possibility of seeing any part of the flight that’s about to take place. 

But then. Then, the guy decided that he needed a book from that same suitcase that he had just stuffed back into the compartment, prior to having _ just _ closed the compartment and retaken his seat. When Zayn had glanced to his right, he saw a middle aged couple glaring openly at the guy who had, apparently obliviously, stood back up and casually cut them off right as they were about to finally pass him. 

“Excuse me, sorry!” the guy said cheerfully. “Just a sec.” 

The couple glared some more. 

And on it went, like a bad comedy routine, as the guy retrieved his book, sat back down, took a good few minutes to get settled with the headphones and the book and the duffle bag shoved under the seat in front of him to his satisfaction, apparently realized that he needed to use the bathroom, inserted himself into the traffic of people who were still just trying to find their goddamn seats, disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the plane for a minute, emerged to return _ against the flow of passengers who were still trying to sit down_, and then, just now, nonchalantly dropped back down into his seat and turned a dazzlingly charming smile on an entirely unsuspecting Zayn. 

For a moment, Zayn is dumbfounded by how his heart melts a little bit in the face of that ridiculous grin. He stares incredulously at the guy, and has to admit to himself that that smile probably lets this guy get away with a lot of shit. 

“Let me guess—first time flier, right?” the guy says cheerfully. 

“Yeah,” Zayn says, too perplexed to answer otherwise. “How did you know?” 

The guy shrugs. He’s wearing a backwards baseball cap and a loose tank top, and the movement draws flattering attention to his arms. Zayn allows himself just a moment to look at the guy’s shoulders before forcibly yanking his attention back to what the guy is saying. 

“You fly enough times, you kind of just get a sense for it,” he says. 

Zayn is so absorbed by the guy’s surprisingly intense gaze that he doesn’t even notice the stewards begin their safety demonstration, the one that he has been dreading for weeks and weeks. 

“What are you traveling for?” the guy asks. 

“Work,” Zayn says absently. “You?” 

The guy gives him a self-deprecating smile and shrugs. “Backpacking through Europe. Gap year, you know.” 

Before Zayn can say anything in response, movement in the aisle catches his eye. He turns to see a steward putting on a yellow life vest—wait, a _ life vest_? Why the fuck would they need life vests? 

Now the steward is pretending to blow air into the vest. Wait, wait, wait. Will Zayn have to _ inflate _ his own life vest? In the middle of the ocean that they’re apparently going to crash into? 

The guy next to him is talking again, but Zayn is now focused on taking in every second he can of the demonstration. When the steward holds up a folded instruction sheet, Zayn agonizes for just a moment before pulling it out of the seat back pocket in front of him. On the one hand, he’s glad to have all of this written down to reference, but on the other hand, as soon as he pictures himself as one of the little cartoon people crossing their arms and resting their heads against the seat in front of them, he suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Zayn shakes his head decisively. He is most definitely not okay. He can’t stop staring down at the stupid manual in his hands. A second later, a hand emerges and gently tugs it out of his grasp. 

“Okay, it’s okay,” the guy says, his voice low and soothing. “Just take some deep breaths, okay? Just in, hooooooo, and out, hoooooooo. Right?” 

Zayn wants to snap at this condescending prick to shut up, but when he looks up, he immediately gets lost in those blue eyes again. Before he can stop himself, he’s following the guy’s instructions, breathing in and breathing out along with him. It’s… helpful. Right up until Zayn has calmed down enough that the guy gives him a slightly smarmy grin. 

“Afraid of flying? I mean, you know planes are _ way _ safer than like, any other mode of travel, right?” 

_ Ugh_. 

“No, really?” Zayn snaps. “No idea.” He pointedly takes the manual back out from where the guy had put it away and flips it open again, fighting down the nausea that promptly resumes. 

The guy laughs, and their seats are close enough that his leg is brushing up against Zayn’s. It’s a warm, annoyingly not-annoying presence. 

“No, I’m sorry, man,” the guy says. “That was mean. Just, you know, you seem like a smart guy, I just–” 

He seems to sense Zayn’s mounting annoyance, because he quickly changes the subject. “I’m Niall.” 

“Zayn,” Zayn says shortly, keeping his eyes fixed on the manual. He’s not sure why he even bothers replying. He should just take his NyQuil and hope it settles in before they take off. 

The plane is still taxiing, but the stewards all seem to have sat down at some point. Through other passengers’ open window sleeves, Zayn can see the light snow that has been looming all day finally start to fall. He takes in a deep breath, sliding the manual back into the seat back pocket. 

“What do you do?” Niall says. “For work.” 

It takes a moment, but as soon as the question registers, Zayn remembers why he’s putting up with this god awful flight in the first place. He feels a wave of happiness come over him, despite the fact that part of him wants to loudly demand that someone explain why the plane has to make so much noise when it’s just rolling around on the ground. There’s no way that much noise can be normal, this part of Zayn is thinking, but even takeoff can’t fully consume him when he’s also thinking about his destination. Even weeks later, the fact that he got this job is still almost unbelievable. He finds himself grinning, turns to answer Niall, and sees that Niall is staring at him with wide eyes and a slightly slack jaw. 

“Is something wrong?” Zayn immediately asks. 

“No, no, no,” Niall replies. “Go on, sorry.” 

“I just got hired by _ National Geographic_,” Zayn says, and he can feel the beam now in full force on his face. “I’m a photographer. This is my first assignment I’m going to, this one in Greenland.” 

“Congrats,” Niall says, still looking a little oddly dazed. “That’s amazing. You’re, uh, really excited about it.” 

Zayn tries to shrug casually, but he knows that the gesture is immediately undermined by his reply. “It’s... kind of my dream job. I’ve been– I mean, my whole life I’ve been working to get this, honestly. It’s like–”

Zayn is abruptly pushed further into his seat by an invisible, terrifying force. The plane has suddenly accelerated, the noise of it seeming to triple in an instant. It’s like being on a rollercoaster if a rollercoaster were a hundred times worse and also could kill you, Zayn thinks, and there’s no way that this can be right. Why the fuck are they going this fast? Zayn turns to look ahead toward the front of the plane, but before his heart can begin pumping as fast as they’re moving, a hand drops down on top of his own. It’s Niall, covering Zayn’s right hand where it’s gripping the seat’s arm with sudden panic. Niall’s hand is surprisingly big, Zayn thinks, and all surfer tan skin when he glances down at it. Niall gives Zayn a comforting squeeze. 

“This is all totally normal,” Niall says, low and soft. “Just a regular takeoff.” 

“Sure,” Zayn says, trying to focus on breathing. 

“You were talking about the job,” Niall reminds him. 

Was he? Right. 

“I– So this is my first assignment,” Zayn says, looking up from where their hands are clutching the armrest into Niall’s gaze. “And it’s in Greenland.” 

Niall grins, a little teasingly. _ God, _ the shit this frat boy must get away with with that smile. “Yeah, you already told me that part, Zayn.” 

Hearing Niall say his name is surprisingly intimate, like he’s inadvertently given Niall something deeply personal to just do with what he will. 

Zayn’s maintaining his breathing with effort, but his thoughts are racing. What is he doing? Holding a stranger’s hand and telling him about the _ Nat Geo _ assignment while they’re hurtling into the sky, because Zayn is scared to death, because they’re hurtling into the sky? 

“I’m fine,” Zayn says. He’s not sure if he’s telling Niall or himself. The plane is lifting off of the ground. 

“So, like, penguins? Is that what you’re gonna be photographing?” 

Zayn shoots Niall an exasperated look even as he deeply inhales through his nose. “There aren’t any penguins in Greenland.” 

“Um... there are definitely penguins in Greenland,” Niall says obstinately. His hand is still covering Zayn’s; for some reason, Zayn can’t seem to bring himself to pull away. That doesn’t mean this guy isn’t deeply wrong, though. 

“Penguins are in the southern hemisphere,” Zayn says firmly. _ “Exclusively _ in the southern hemisphere.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Niall asks. “I mean, if you’ve never been to Greenland _ or _ the southern–” 

“Have _ you _been to Greenland or the southern hemisphere?” 

“No,” Niall admits easily. “But… I think I know where penguins live.” 

“They _don’t_ live in Greenland, Niall.” 

A voice, nearly inaudible over the roaring engines, crackles overhead. “We’ve just reached altitude. Once it is safe to move about the cabin–” 

Zayn glances up in surprise, then back at Niall. The speed no longer feels so pressing, the turbulence is no longer all that noticeable. As the pilot continues talking, Niall grins. 

“You– Were you–” 

“Distracting you? Of course. You just needed something else to focus on,” Niall says, shrugging easily and with just a little bit of swagger. 

Zayn stares at him, a smile of his own blooming despite his best efforts to suppress it. “Well. I mean... Thanks for that.” He pauses as the captain keeps rambling on about priority miles over their heads. 

“But,” Zayn adds. “You do actually know that there aren’t any penguins in Greenland, right? Because it’s important to me that you know that–” 

Niall snorts and rolls his eyes. “_Fine_, Zayn. Enlighten me about which animals actually do live in Greenland so I can know which trails to avoid.” 

Zayn finds himself, to his surprise, giving an impromptu lecture about the flora and fauna of Greenland and answering Niall’s increasingly elaborate questions with ease. It isn’t until an hour later that he realizes Niall’s hand is still gently lying over his own on the armrest. The plane jerks abruptly a moment later, and Zayn unthinkingly adjusts, gripping Niall’s hand in return and interlacing their fingers. Niall runs a thumb soothingly over Zayn’s knuckles. 

* * *

**( 2 )**

“I want to watch _ A Star Is Born_,” Niall decides. Zayn promptly groans. 

“What?” Niall says. In the aisle next to them, a flight attendant is showing the passengers how to fasten their seat belts. Zayn has been methodically unwrapping a seemingly endless supply of sticks of gum, furiously chewing them one by one, and tearing up the little aluminum sheets they come in for the past five minutes. 

“Please not _ A Star Is Born _ again,” Zayn says, but he’s still a little distracted. His eyes flick from the flight attendant to the seatbelt sign and back again. “Can’t you watch, like, _ The Fast and the Furious 17 _ or something?” 

Niall crosses his arms, intentionally jostling around into Zayn’s space in the process. “Are you trying to deny me the experience of revisiting this Oscar winning film?” 

Zayn’s lips twitch into a near smile. “You know that I know what you’re doing, right?” 

“Yeah, trying to get my rude ass boyfriend to stop judging my excellent taste in movies.” 

“I mean,” Zayn says, still hiding his smile, taking the bait. “The movie was _ fine_, I guess, the first five or so times. Sorry for trying to broaden your horizons.” 

“Trying to broaden my horizons with _ The Fast and the Furious_?” 

“And do you want to start crying in front of all of these people in the middle of this flight? I’m just _looking out _ for you,” Zayn insists. 

“And how exactly do you know that _ The Fast and the Furious _ won’t make me cry in front of all of these people in the middle of this flight?” 

"You know what? You–" 

By the time they’ve reached altitude, Zayn’s packet of gum is lying forgotten under his seat, a cooking show is playing on the screen that Zayn and Niall are sharing headphones for, and they’ve both fallen into the brief, shallow sleep of airplane travel. 

* * *

**( 3 )**

Zayn twists the ring on his finger. The wind outside is positively screaming. Not long after the seatbelt sign was abruptly turned back on, the flight attendants stopped the food and drink service midway through so that they could go back to their own seats. An unrelenting series of fierce winds are buffeting the plane, hitting it so hard that Zayn could swear they’re taking it off of its course. 

“The flight attendants sat down,” Zayn says. 

“Very standard,” Niall says immediately, but Zayn notices that he has pointedly closed the window flap on his right. “That’s a totally normal procedure, it happens all the time.” 

The plane continues shaking, roughly and with no apparent intention of slowing down anytime soon. Shoved back and forth and up and down in his seat, Zayn feels like he’s getting manhandled by an angry bouncer. 

“Probably just a small wing adjustment,” Niall says. He gently takes Zayn’s hands in his own, stopping him from fidgeting any more with the ring. “Babe. Blink twice if you’re fine.” 

“I’m fine,” Zayn says. A moment passes, then he rapidly blinks a couple of times for good measure. Possibly, he can admit, it's more to convince himself than to convince Niall. 

“Okay,” Niall says. “That’s good. Because this is all very normal.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” Niall pauses, his fingers still tightly twined with Zayn’s. “Want a book? Or a magazine? I brought the–” 

“No thanks,” Zayn says. “I’m good.” 

“Sure. Yeah. So...” Niall has _ never _ sounded this nervous on a plane before. Zayn focuses on matching his breathing to Niall’s, hearing his words as if from a far distance. “As you know, this isn’t gonna last for more than a few minutes. And the pilot said that almost, like, a full minute ago already. And as soon as we’re through this, they’re gonna turn off that seatbelt sign and start serving food again. And then I’ll buy you a drink or two. Okay?” 

Zayn looks up from Niall's chest and smiles wanly. “Trying to get lucky? I should’ve known that was your plan all along. Mom and Dad tried to warn me about frat boys.” 

Niall laughs, a little too loudly. “So you’re saying that once they turn the seatbelt sign off– which is happening in just a few minutes– you and I can head to the bathroom and finally get into the mile high club, right?” 

Zayn snorts. “In your dreams.” 

“Hmm,” Niall says. He leans closer, lowering his voice. “Are you sure? Not even if I promised I’d make it worth your while?” 

Despite himself, and despite the truly shitty circumstances they’re in, Zayn feels a lick of electricity go up his spine. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Zayn says. He pulls his hands away from Niall’s and crosses his arms, partly to be annoying, partly to prevent himself from getting horny while plummeting to his certain fiery death in this goddamn airplane, and also partly to try (and fail) to distract himself from said impending fiery death. “And you’re getting me a drink when they turn the seatbelt sign off. _ Two _ drinks.” 

“I am,” Niall agrees amiably, and leans back into his own seat with casual ease. Zayn has never been sure how he does that, how he stays so undeniably cool and collected when Zayn himself feels on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 

“And next time, we’re taking a boat,” Zayn adds, trying to think of anything besides the noises that the plane is making and the deafening wails of an infant somewhere among the passengers. 

“Eh, I don’t know about a boat,” Niall says. Zayn turns and gives him an incredulous glare. “I’m just saying! With boats, lots of illnesses spread around, you know? And I had a friend who–” 

“I swear to god, if this friend was Harry, I don’t need to hear whatever bullshit story–” 

“–who went on a cruise one time and do you know what the band was playing, while all the passengers were hauling their luggage to their rooms? They were playing the _ Titanic _ song, Zayn. That’s just wrong. Boats are... cruel mistresses of the cruel sea, ruled by even crueler crew members.” 

Zayn can’t help but bark out a laugh, even while the plane continues shaking uncontrollably, even while he is gripping his own still crossed arms so hard that it’s painful. Niall grins triumphantly in response. 

“I’m totally John Cusack,” he declares, smug. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You know. _ Say Anything_?” 

Zayn shrugs. He’s started glancing around at the other passengers, wondering how many of them are freaking out like he is but doing a better job of hiding it. 

“Oh my god, wait, you haven’t seen _ Say Anything_?” Niall sits up straighter, and he’s going a little overboard with the distracting performance of utter delight, but Zayn can forgive him for it. Niall once more leans close, unwrapping Zayn’s arms from their position over his chest with surprising ease and then taking both of Zayn’s hands into both of his own. Their hands together make a kind of bizarre knot, with the fingers all intertwined like that. 

“So the girl is afraid of flying, right?” Niall explains. 

“And I’m the girl?” Zayn says dryly. 

Niall grins. “You said it, not me. And look at that, you’re doing great—I’m pretty sure she rolls her eyes just like that in the movie. So John Cusack goes with her on this flight and spends the whole time talking her down, and it’s like, uber romantic. And the timing is everything in this scene, right? Because he tells her that–” 

Abruptly, a _ ding _ rings out over their heads. Zayn and Niall look up simultaneously to see that the seat belt sign has just been turned off. The pilot turns on the intercom and starts talking, with every single word, of course, being entirely unintelligible due to the shitty sound system. The flight attendants have all gotten up, and they’re starting to roll carts back out into the aisle. 

Zayn turns to Niall to see that he’s wearing an unexpected pout. “That totally wrecked the timing,” he mourns. 

Zayn nearly chokes on his own laughter. “I’m... sorry that the snow storm from hell that was trying to kill us all didn’t last long enough for your story?” 

Zayn’s hands are getting sweaty from being held in Niall’s. And it also feels a little silly to be in this position now that they’re apparently not going to die. Zayn gently pulls his hands away and wipes them off on his jeans, feeling a little self-conscious. While he does so, he notices in his peripheral vision that Niall leans back into his seat and takes in a silent but big breath of relief. He _ knew _ Niall was nervous too. 

Zayn nudges Niall’s shoulder with his own, suddenly overcome by a depthless kind of fondness. “Tell me the rest of the story, then.” 

Niall sits up and gives him a bright smile, the kind that still, even years and years later, manages to take Zayn off guard with its sweetness. 


End file.
